“You are a liar and I hate you.”
He only laughed harder, and even though it was at my expense, I laughed too. All be it, begrudgingly.
The night started to fly by. We took turns being terrible—I was the worst by far. I swear Anthony could have been a professional, but he played terribly just for me. The scoreboard looked tragic. But when I nearly fell because my sock slipped in my too big shoe, any chance I had of pulling back a win flew out the window.
Anthony caught my elbow automatically. “You okay?”
I blinked up at him, breathless from laughing. “Yeah,” I said, surprised to realize I meant it. I actually meant it.
He bowled a strike and raised both arms like he’d just won an Olympic medal. I tackled him into a hug that knocked us both off balance.
The teenage clerk glared at us as a family demanded to be moved to the next lane over. We didn't care. Didn’t have a care in the world beyond enjoying the moment with each other.
We ate burgers and fries at a wobbly plastic table, ketchup on our fingers, grease on our napkins. He stole my fries. I stole his milkshake. I leaned into his side, shoulder tucked under his arm, and didn’t feel like I was taking up too much space. I felt… enough.
We grabbed the salted caramel cookies to-go and drove down to the beach.
The tide whispered instead of roared. The sand was cool and damp under our bare feet. The stars were scattered thick across the sky as if someone had thrown glitter into the dark.
We sat on a blanket near the waterline, knees brushing, giant cookies balanced on paper wrappers between us.
The ocean glittered softly, holding the moonlight like a secret.
“This,” I said quietly, gesturing at everything. “This feels right.”
Anthony pressed a kiss to my temple. “You always get to choose what feels right now.”
I leaned into him, resting my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The sound soothed something ancient and frightened inside me.
We didn’t talk much. We didn’t need to. We just existed together. His fingers traced lazy patterns along my arm. Eventually my breathing slowed, and my eyelids grew heavy.
I shifted closer without thinking, curling into his side.
“You crashing, baby boy?” he murmured.
“Mhm,” I admitted, voice already foggy.
He wrapped both arms around me, pulling me fully into his lap, his chin resting on the top of my head. “You’re safe,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”
My body believed him, and I slept right there on the beach. Wrapped in his arms. Loved in a way that hadn’t seemed possible.
CHAPTER 30
ANTHONY
Iwoke to the sound of Elliot crying. Just the quiet, wrecked sound of grief slipping out between breaths.
He was curled on his side facing me, hands twisted into the front of my shirt, his shoulders trembling like his body hadn’t decided yet whether it was allowed to fall apart.
“Hey,” I whispered, sliding my hand into his hair. “Baby boy.”
His red-rimmed eyes opened. Raw and unguarded, every ounce of his vulnerability shone through them.
“I hate that she’s missing this,” he said hoarsely. “I hate that she never got to see me get stronger. That she never got to see us.”
My chest tightened hard enough to hurt. I pulled him into my arms and held him until his shaking slowed.
“She saw it,” I said quietly. “She always knew who you were going to become. She believed in you before you believed in yourself.”
